


A Picture of You

by werewolfsaz



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Photographer Daryl, cuteness, mainly an excuse for me to waffle on for ages, model jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfsaz/pseuds/werewolfsaz
Summary: “This place is awesome,” were the first words out his mouth, the voice registering somewhere in Daryl’s mind as quite nice. But most of his mind was focused on the blueness of his eyes, the glowing chestnut hue of his long, loosely bound hair and the smoothness of his golden tanned skin.“I mean, this is just perfect,” the vision went on. “The light is perfect, the space is welcoming without being cluttered. You must pay a mint for the location but it’s totally worth it. Oh, sorry! There I go, rambling away, haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Paul Rovia but everyone calls me Jesus. Nice to meet you. Rick and Michonne really had so much to say about you...”Daryl blinked, forcing his mind back online, drawing himself back into the present and away from thoughts of those azure eyes blown with lust or heavy with spent passion of sleepy after a night of amazing sex...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! *waves* So my smut fairy ran away and I've been all over the world to find her and drag her slacking ass home to do some damn work! And this is want I got out of her.  
> I hope you enjoy it. I have my gorgeous Rickyl/Darus ladies to thank, as always, Gitte, Emma and Tara. You ladies rock! And my lovely panther Miriam who encouraged me to write what I could, when I could instead of punishing myself for not getting it done all at once. Love you loads <3  
> Please let me know what you think of my little fic. Comments make me happy and persuade the smut fairy to stay close.  
> Enjoy :)

Daryl let his hands do the work automatically as he took the camera apart, cleaned it and put it back together. His mind was wandering far away, lost in a sea of poses, backgrounds and expectations. This new model was supposed to be good, easy to work with, a real darling get of the camera. Daryl had never heard of him before but then, if it wasn’t the camera itself, he wasn’t really bothered. He hardly ever took on new clients, especially not ones as green as this guy, but Rick and Michonne had kept on and on, insisting that only Daryl’s style could do this guy justice. In the end he’d agreed just to stop the endless texts and emails and 3am phone calls. 

The bell sounded downstairs, the familiar rumble of the old freight elevator starting up signalling that the new guy was punctual at least.  
“Really is new,” he grumbled, picking up his favourite 2 cameras and setting them on the stool in front of the white screen. The clank as the elevator stopped was loud in the mostly bare studio. The gate rattled up and Daryl turned to get his first look at this superstar in the making.  
“This place is awesome,” were the first words out his mouth, the voice registering somewhere in Daryl’s mind as quite nice. But most of his mind was focused on the blueness of his eyes, the glowing chestnut hue of his long, loosely bound hair and the smoothness of his golden tanned skin.  
“I mean, this is just perfect,” the vision went on. “The light is perfect, the space is welcoming without being cluttered. You must pay a mint for the location but it’s totally worth it. Oh, sorry! There I go, rambling away, haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Paul Rovia but everyone calls me Jesus. Nice to meet you. Rick and Michonne really had so much to say about you...”  
Daryl blinked, forcing his mind back online, drawing himself back into the present and away from thoughts of those azure eyes blown with lust or heavy with spent passion of sleepy after a night of amazing sex...

“Put yer stuff over there,” Daryl snapped, interrupting Jesus’s rambling. He winced at the harshness of his tone, inwardly berating himself. He hadn’t mean to be rude, it just sort of happened, along with visions of all the things he could do with all that thick hair. But Jesus just smiled, nodding as he strode across the studio to throw his bag and jacket on a worn couch in the corner. Daryl quickly spun back to the long table where he kept all his cameras, instantly deciding that the ones he’d picked wouldn’t do for this guy. He picked up his new choice then, after a moment’s thought, picked up his oldest, most beloved camera too.  
“Ok, boss, where do you want me?” Jesus asked brightly, stepping back towards Daryl with an easy gait that rolled his hips enticingly. Daryl forced his mind away from the plethora of images that leapt up and gestured to the screen.  
“Stand there and I’ll do some lighting shots.”  
The camera clicked rapidly in his hands, the familiar noise easing the tension the new guy seemed to have created in Daryl. He adjusted the lights a bit, moved Jesus around to see if there were any angles that needed extra work and tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, rather than where he wanted Jesus’s hands to be.  
“Not much of a talker, are you?” the model commented with a grin as Daryl motioned him to turn ever so slightly to the right. “Most photographers yell or cajole or over flatter to get us to work it for them.”

“You don’t work it, the picture’s are shit, you don’t get paid. Simple.”  
Jesus laughed, head tilted back, lips curled up at a perfect angle, eyes crinkled closed. Daryl lifted the camera and snapped away. It was perfect in its innocence, its lack of artifice. When those brilliant blue eyes opened again, still glowing with mirth, Daryl kept his finger on the shutter button. The look on Jesus’s face changed slowly as he lowered his head and kept his eyes on Daryl. It went from laughter to something thoughtful, blue eyes darkening for a moment, back to happy-go-lucky brilliance in a flash. It was only because Daryl was seeing him through the lens that he noticed the change at all.  
“So how long is this session gonna be?” Jesus drawled as he shifted his weight on to his other leg. “Not that I’m bothered, just wondering.”  
“Just til I think we’ve got the shots Rick and Michonne want,” Daryl rumbled back, switching the cameras and snapping a few wide angles for comparison.  
“What’s that?” Jesus asked suddenly, pointing over Daryl’s shoulder to a crossbow hanging on his wall. Snatching up his beloved camera, Daryl focused on close ups as he told Jesus about the crossbow being a present from his brother, how it was supposed to act as a subtle reminder that Daryl hadn’t always been a big shot photographer.  
“He wanted it to be a weight, a reminder that I was nothing and that I shouldn’t let this make me think I might be worth something. But that’s not how I see it.”  
Daryl clammed up then, embarrassed that he’d spilled such a personal story to a stranger. Jesus moved across the room, ignoring the camera following his every move, to examine the crossbow more closely. 

“No, I think you see it as a reminder of how far you’ve come on your own talent and passion and dedication. As you should,” the model nodded firmly, looking back over his shoulder at Daryl, full lips curved up in a soft smile. “I’ve been a fan of your work from the beginning. I bought one of your first pictures from your very first exhibition. I was living on noodles and with no heat for a month but they are all totally worth it.”  
Daryl stared at Jesus, mouth hanging open for a long time, then shook himself, lowering his eyes back to the camera, cheeks flushed dark red.  
“Which picture was it?” he mumbled, eyes flicking up briefly then away.  
“It was a sunrise from the top of an abandoned warehouse, out over the rest of the abandoned dockyard. It spoke to me in a way I’ve never felt before. It spoke of complete rock bottom, of having nothing in this horribly broken world but a beautiful sunrise. And now I look at every sunrise as a gift, as a chance to make every day worth the effort to keep fighting .”

Daryl blushed hotly again, fingers fumbling with the camera as he tried to get the angle perfect on Jesus’s profile. He remember that picture, it was one of his favourites. It had been taken on a camera he’d found in a dumpster when he’d been living on the streets, squatting in that same abandoned warehouse. When he’d finally made it to the point of being able to hold an exhibition, all thanks to his very best friends Rick and Michonne Grimes, that one had been his pride, and pain, to display. It was a reminder of how far his art had brought him. When he’d found out someone had bought it, he was angry and disgusted. How could anyone else ever really understand that picture? But it seemed this man, a stranger, someone he had assumed would be another empty headed pretty boy, had felt the true essence of the picture without knowing the backstory at all.  
“You have a rare talent, Daryl.”  
Jesus’s voice was low, soft, his gaze heavy with something Daryl couldn’t quite grasp as his eyes held the photographer in their sapphire grip. Jesus tilted his head slightly, stepping closer to Daryl, peering at him.  
“Your eyes... How can they be so light and dark at the same time? I’ve never seen that before. Blue and green and grey and...”  
Daryl blinked, stunned then stepped back causing Jesus to snap back as well.

“Sorry, that was rude. Can we take five? I need a drink. Throat’s drier than the Sahara.”  
Without waiting for Daryl to answer, Jesus crossed to his bag, pulled out a water bottle and took a long swig. Daryl, not even thinking, snapped a few shots, convinced that any drinks company would want to buy those prints. It was the easy, natural way Jesus moved, exuding powerful sensuality without being overtly sexual. The way his lips wrapped around the spout, eyes closed as the liquid slid down the long line of his throat...  
“Gotta make a quick call,” Daryl blurted suddenly, setting the camera down and bolting into the back room, fighting his phone out of his pocket and fumbling to hit Rick’s number.  
“Hey,” the other man answered after only a few rings, voice honey smooth over the line. “What’s up? Aren’t you meant to be shooting Jesus?”  
“You did this on purpose!” Daryl snarled down the line. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t need you to set me up with anyone.”  
“Daryl, whoa, slow down. What are you talking about? We didn’t set you up with anything but a model.”  
“You mean... You didn’t make it sound like I might want to sleep with him or date him or something?”  
“You’re a photographer, Dixon, not a prostitute. What the hell is going on?” Rick was starting to sounded pissed now, which helped convinced Daryl he was telling the truth. “Has Jesus been inappropriate? Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No! He’s been fine, great in fact. Real easy to shoot. I just... I think he’s flirting with me.” Daryl hated how small his voice sounded, how small town, backwoods redneck it made him seem. Rick’s soft, comforting snort eased the feeling.  
“Of course he’s flirting with you! Daryl, Jesus has been at every one of your exhibitions since the first one. He’s bought something every time, even when it looked like he hadn’t eaten for a month. He used to hover at the edges of the crowds around you, too scared to actually talk to you. I saw him there about six months ago, finally noticed that his face was the stuff modelling agencies pray for. We took him in, Michonne insisted he stayed in the room above the garage. He did odd jobs round the house to pay for his keep. The only things he brought with him were two books, a backpack with some old clothes in and his collection of your pictures. He could have sold them at any point to get enough money to eat, pay rent, buy better clothes. But when I suggested that, he looked like I’d just suggested sacrificing small kids to Satan.”

Daryl could only stand there, open mouthed, as Rick laid it all out. He knew that his exhibitions were mainly a big blur, a swirling horror show of fake people talking too loudly and crowding him as they spewed pretentious platitudes about his work. It was only to be expected that he wouldn’t remember Jesus. But a part of him thought maybe he did. The eyes, huge and blue as summer skies, filled with nervous admiration, that was familiar.  
“The fact that he’s there now... Well, I’m amazed he didn’t need a drink or two beforehand. He was so nervous this morning, thought he was gonna puke,” Rick was still talking, waiting for Daryl to come back from wherever he’d drifted to.  
“Which other pictures did he buy?”  
“Why don’t you ask him?” Rick suggested, tone fond as he verbally nudged his friend towards something that could be wonderful for him.  
“Yeah, okay. Gotta go,” Daryl mumbled and hung up. He rubbed his sweating palms on his jeans, straightening up a bit from his usual slouch. It was the wondering that always got in the way of Daryl’s love life, the constant worry that the other person was dazzled by his fame rather than genuinely interested in him, as a person. But Rick, who had never lied to Daryl in all the years they’d been friends, had put that particular worry to rest. Running hand through his shaggy dark hair, Daryl straightened his clothes before going back in to the other room.  
Jesus was standing by one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the city. He didn’t hear Daryl come back, was just restless tugging a hand through his, now loose, long chestnut hair, biting his bottom lip as if he was thinking about bolting. Seeing him look so human, so nervous, made Daryl instantly feel a bit better. 

“Sorry, just had to give Rick a progress report,” he said softly, almost loathed to disturb the other man. Jesus jumped, spinning to face Daryl, eyes going huge before he relaxed again, smiling. Scooping up his camera in passing, Daryl raised a hand to stop the model moving, snapping a few quick shots. Jesus lowered his head, smiling slightly and Daryl zoomed in to capture that look.  
“You said that warehouse picture was the first one you bought. What others did you get?” Daryl asked casually, squatting down to catch the play of long hair and shadows over Jesus’s neck and shoulders.  
“Oh... Umm...” Jesus’s cheeks turned a soft pink colour and he turned to look back out the window. “I bought ‘Walker’, ‘Steel Horse’ and ‘Candy’. I wanted to buy them all but I only had enough for those. I bid on ‘Petite Panther’ too but someone swooped in last minute and snatched it up. I was gutted.”  
Daryl lowered the camera, standing so he was facing the other man full on. There was only a slight height difference, enough that Jesus had to tilt his head back slightly to watch Daryl’s eyes.  
“You’ve come to my shows but never spoken to me. You’ve bought the pieces that were deeply meaningful to me. You went without food and heat to do these things. You’re living in the room over Rick garage...”  
“How did you know...?” Jesus gasped, eyes widening again. “I swear I’m not a stalker! I just.. I loved your work and I could never build up the courage to talk to you at the exhibitions because... Well, I looked like what I was, a starving almost homeless person. I never dreamed, when Rick made his offer, that I would ever get to work NEAR you, never mind with you!”

Daryl found himself smiling as Jesus flailed about, desperate to explain the odd series of event that had brought them to this moment. He shook his head, chuckling softly, hand dipping in to his jeans pocket to quickly digging out one of the few battered business cards Michonne had tried to force him to use. He handed it to Jesus.  
“World’s a weird place,” he shrugged, smiling at the frown on Jesus’s perfect face. He snapped one last shot of that then stepped away. “All done for today. If you can come by tomorrow, we’ll go over the shots and pick the best ones, if you can stand to hear me criticize you while we do. If you really impress me and take it, I might even take you for a coffee after. Number’s on there. Gimme a call when you’re on your way over.”  
Jesus looked down at the creased, slightly grubby piece of card with something close to reverence, cupping his hand around it like someone might try to take it from him.  
“I can take it,” he replied softly, eyes flicking up to lock with Daryl’s, voice low and full of another meaning, one that had Daryl blushing and aching in his jeans.  
“We’ll see,” he replied, his own voice dropping to a rumbling purr. Jesus went dark pink, ducking his head down to hide behind his hair for a second. Then he straightened, brushing the long, rich brown strands back and held out his hand to Daryl with a smile.  
“Been an honour and a pleasure. Thanks for this. I’ll...I’ll call you tomorrow.”  
Daryl shook the offered hand, startled but oddly pleased by the roughness of Jesus’s hands. These were the hands of someone that had worked hard, not just lived off his looks.  
“Pleasure’s all mine.”

**

Daryl was leaving the dark room a few hours later, when he heard his phone shout ‘TEXT, ASSHOLE!’ from across the room. He picked it up, frowning at the number he didn’t recognise. But the message made it clear and brought a smile to his lips.  
‘If I sell enough of those photos, I’m gonna track down the bastard that stole Petite Panther and buy it right back. J’  
Daryl chuckled as he tapped back a quick reply.  
‘I could reprint the original if you want? D’  
There was a long pause and Daryl began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Just as he was about to take the offer back, his phone yelled again, making him nearly drop it.

‘Really? You still have the negative? How much would you want for it? I mean, I’ll pay anything to have it but I need to know how many photos I have to sell to be able to afford it. J’  
‘Well we’ll see how the ones we took today sell then I’ll name a price. Fair? D’  
‘Very fair. Thank you so much. I... better let you get back to your evening. J’  
Daryl glanced around his apartment, hesitated for a moment then text back. When he next looked at the time, it was nearly midnight and he had spent almost 6 hours texting a man that was a relative stranger. Only... He didn’t feel like a stranger. Daryl scrolled back through their conversation and realised he had told Jesus things he would never normally have shared with someone he barely knew. But he also realised that the other man had told him deeply personal things as well. It was oddly humbling.  
‘Go to bed or you’ll look like shit tomorrow’  
‘Your charm leaves me overwhelmed ;) ‘  
‘That’s me, charming to the last XD’  
Alright, Prince Charming, I better get some beauty sleep or the money maker will start costing me money instead of making it. See you tomorrow x’  
Daryl froze for a long minute, staring at the fairly innocuous kiss on the end of the message. His heart started to pound loudly, palms sweating alarmingly as he text back slowly then hesitated over the send button.

“Fuck sake, Dixon, grow a pair,” he growled, stabbing the button and sending his ‘Night, Sleeping Beauty x’ before throwing his phone on the coffee table and covering his face with his hands. Was he really flirting like a teenager with a pretty boy model that was swerving close to stalker territory? Yes, it seemed so. And he was enjoying it. The butterflies in his stomach with every text, the way each one made him smile or chuckle or want to really get to know more about this funny, sarcastic guy that looked like an angel and swore like a sailor, Daryl was enjoying all of it. It looked like Rick was going to be getting a bottle of best quality scotch soon. Smiling, looking forward to the following day, Daryl went to bed.

**

“I’m stuck in your elevator,” Jesus stated flatly, when Daryl picked up his phone. “It started off fine but then there was a grating noise and it stopped. What do I do now?”  
“Hang on,” Daryl snorted, moving to the control panel in the wall and flipping the switch several times. “It’s old, it can’t help it.”  
“The lights just went off!” Jesus’s voice was high with panic, echoing weirdly through the phone and up the elevator shaft.  
“Had to reset the electrics. Be back on and moving in a minute,” Daryl assured him, frowning. Was Jesus scared of the dark?  
“Okay, just keep talking to me, please? I’m slightly claustrophobic and the dark is not helping.”  
Daryl sat by the doors and began talking low and soothingly, getting Jesus to focus on his voice rather than the enclosed space.  
“So I’ve given the photos a quick look over and I think there are a fair few that can be used. That’s a surprise because most shoots have only one or two. There’s a few I’d like to redo with different lens focus, different clothes, change the lighting a bit. If you think you’d be up for that? Plus I think we need a different location, outside somewhere. Maybe urban, that would be good. And a few nature ones, maybe in the park.”  
“You’re the boss,” Jesus chuckled, voice still too high. Then he gave a small, distinctly un-manly noise as the elevator lurched and began to move again. Daryl ended the call as it groaned in to view, hauling the door open just as Jesus rushed out, practically throwing himself into Daryl’s arms. His hands curled into fists, face pressed to the photographer’s shirt, messy hair tickling his neck as tremors shook him.

“I am so taking the stairs in future,” Jesus mumbled, leaning in to Daryl for a moment before stepping back. “Sorry, not very professional of me. Always hated enclosed spaces. Do you have a washroom? I want to clean myself up a bit.”  
Daryl fought the urge to hold the slightly smaller man to him, instead motioning towards the bathroom with a smile. The answering smile was smile and weak, not the smile he’d seen the day before. It made Daryl want to hold him again, sooth him until he was smiling brightly, eyes losing any trace of fear. Watching the model walk away, Daryl let his eyes drift across the spread of his shoulders, already visualising the best way to show them off to the best advantage, down to the trimness of his waist and the smooth roundness of his ass. His thoughts turned much less professional then, imagining all the ways he could make that ass work for him.  
“Thanks,” Jesus said as he reappeared, snapping Daryl back to the present. He noticed Jesus had brushed his hair back and put it up in a messy ponytail that bobbed and swayed as he walked. “And... sorry. I’ll try not to be so...”

“It’s okay. We all have things we’re afraid of,” Daryl assured him with a small smile. “Come and look at these.”  
They spent the next hour going over every picture Daryl had taken the day before. Jesus, to his credit, took the criticisms like a professional, listening as Daryl explained why a shot that might look perfect at first would never sell. With each rejected shot, Jesus’s face grew more serious, eyes going a little duller. Finally Daryl couldn’t stand that look anymore. Hesitantly, he rested his hand on Jesus’s shoulder, squeezing the sleek muscles gently.  
“It’s not because you’re not good enough. The magazines and ad companies insist on absolute perfection. You’re pretty damned close but perfection is in the eye of the beholder.” Daryl bit his lip as he realised what he’d said but hoped Jesus would just take it as a professional comment. But the way his head whipped round, hair trailing like a comet’s tail, put paid to that hope.

“Pretty close?” Jesus asked softly, a soft smile curving his lips. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”  
Their eyes stayed locked for a long time, something heavy and warm uncurling between them. Then Jesus blinked, breaking the tension, looking back at his pictures.  
“So which of these are any good?” he asked, voice much lower and rougher than either expected. Daryl’s mind instantly supplied pictures of Jesus, naked and hard, spread across his huge bed, begging Daryl to fuck him. He closed his eyes, breathing through his nose for a few moments, before he could answer.  
“These three have definite sale potential. These five might sell too if we touch them up a bit. There are about half a dozen others that, if we re-shoot, might be sellable. The others... no.”

Jesus nodded, looking back over the negatives again, fingers hovering over a few but not touching.  
“Okay, let’s get the re-shoot and touch ups done. Burn the rest,” he stated firmly, standing and striding over to the window, chewing his lip. Daryl was guessing it was a nervous habit, an endearing one but one that would have to stop if he didn’t want to ruin future pictures with raw lips. Scooping up the negatives, Daryl placed them back in the file, adamant that he would never burn them. He might not be able to sell them but they were still beautiful.  
“Let’s do a few lighting shots first. It’s not quite right yet but I want to get a range. Then we’ll grab a coffee and get to work.”

**

The re-shoot and touch ups had taken another two days before both Daryl and Jesus had been satisfied enough to submit the final choices to Rick and Michonne. Daryl had arrived at their house to find Jesus pacing circles on the lawn, tugging anxiously at his hair, biting his lip almost bloody.  
“You the welcoming committee now?” Daryl called as he strode along the path, grinning.  
“Michonne chased me out the house with a broom. Said I was driving her insane. I’m just nervous that no one will pay to have my ugly mug on stuff.”  
Daryl slowed, reaching out to stop Jesus’s pacing with a hand on his shoulder.  
“They will sell, chill out. Tell you what,” he paused, swallowing hard then gripped his courage tight and plunged on. “If you sell just a single picture, I’ll take you out for dinner. If not, then dinner is on you.”  
Huge blue eyes blinked at Daryl, stunned. Then a smile, full blown and brilliant in its joy, spread across the model’s face.  
“You’re on! But, if I win, I hope you like noodles because that’s all I can afford,” Jesus laughed, eyes sparkling like waves under the sun. Daryl wished he had a camera, wanting to capture this exact expression forever.

“About damn time, Dixon!” Rick’s Southern drawl boomed, making the pair jump. “Get in here, both’a ya. Let’s see if yer both worth the effort.”  
“It’s when he speaks so sweetly that I feel myself falling for him,” Jesus chuckled, rolling his eyes as he walked towards the house. Daryl tried to squash the flare of jealousy, tried telling himself that Jesus was only being sarcastic, but it didn’t stop him wanting to grab the long haired man and claim him right out in public.  
The inside of Rick and Michonne’s house was a beautiful mixture of family chaos and business. Pictures of all past models hung on the walls, though not professional shoots but rather candid shots from the annul barbeque the pair held. There were pictures of the kids too, Rick’s from his previous marriage but still as much Michonne’s as his. Daryl had taken most of them, especially the ones of Judith, she was his little superstar.  
Rick motioned them in to his office, watching them with a stern expression that made Jesus start biting his lip again. Daryl thought he saw a flicker of amusement in Rick’s bright blue eyes but it was gone before he could be sure.  
“So, I’ve looked over the photos and, I have to ask, is this the best you two can do?” Rick demanded, voice and face hard as he glared from one to the other. Jesus slumped, long hair falling forward to cover his face and hide himself from that look. Daryl glared back, chin lifted defiantly. He knew his shots were the best, he knew Jesus had been the perfect model so what the fuck was Rick’s problem? 

“Because, if they are, then we... are gonna make a lot of money,” the other man finished, a grin breaking over his face as Jesus’s head snapped up, staring at him incredulously.  
“Yer a dick,” Daryl snorted, shaking his head at his long time friend. “Coulda scared him off for good with that.”  
“You’re right. Sorry, Jesus, that was cruel. In all seriousness, the shots are fantastic and I have a few bits of good news. I have sold all of them just this morning. And we’ve had three other shoot offers for you too. I wanted to start with just one, see how you like it then we can do the others if you want. Daryl, we’ve been offered another gallery show in two months time and I think it would be the perfect chance to show some of your new stuff.”  
“Oh my... Seriously? That’s fantastic!” Jesus whooped, throwing his arms around Daryl and hugging him tight for a moment. “Looks like dinner’s on you. If you can spare the time.”  
“Pick you up here at seven?” Daryl smirked back. Jesus blushed slightly, nodding. They stared at each other for a long moment, grinning happily, before Rick’s gentle but pointed cough broke them apart.  
“Save it for later, you two. We’ve got lots to do before you leave here.”

**

Daryl could feel his shirt sticking to his back as he pulled up outside Rick’s place in his truck. Normally he’d ride his motorcycle but he thought the truck would be better for a first date. Then he cringed. This wasn’t, technically, a date. He’d lost the bet, he was paying up but... It felt like a date. He’s even dressed up in his best black slacks, dark green button down shirt and black boots. Michonne called it his date outfit whenever he wore it but he couldn’t really get mad at her because she’d picked it out for just that reason. Daryl saw the blinds twitch was he sat there like a lump and knew his friends were laughing away in there. When the door opened he expected to see Michonne with her hands on her hips, motion ingredients him to get on with it. 

Instead Jesus stepped out, looking stunning in a simple white shirt and stonewashed dark blue jeans. His chestnut hair fell in a curtain over his shoulders, framing his face perfectly. He spoke over his shoulder for a moment, nodded laughed then closed the door to stride towards the truck. Realising he looked like an idiot, Daryl scrambled out to greet him, a warm smile tugging at his lips as the other man studied him closely.  
“Wow,” Jesus breathed, taking in the boots, slacks and tight shirt. Everything showed off the perfect spread of Daryl’s shoulders, the trimness of his waist and long length of his powerful legs. Jesus’s whole body flashed hot with desire as he watched the predatory way Daryl moved.  
“Wow yourself,” the photographer grinned back, moving as if to take Jesus’s hand then hesitated. He wasn’t sure they were there yet and he certainly didn’t want to do something that might spook the other man. But Jesus just smiled, stepped closer and hugged Daryl briefly but tightly.

“So where are we going?” Jesus asked as he hopped into the truck, turning to face the other man with an excited gleam in his eyes.  
“The Water Club,” Daryl replied, the rumble of the truck’s engine not quite drowning out Jesus’s gasp of surprise.  
“But... That place is always completely booked months in advance.”  
“Yeah, well, I know a guy. I hope you like being outside because we’re sitting at the Crow’s Nest bar on the roof.”  
Daryl could feel Jesus’s eyes on him as he drove, could feel him wanting to ask how Daryl had managed to get a table at the most popular restaurant in New York in a few hours. Instead he shifted in his seat, looking down at his hands.  
“I can try and pay some of the bill. I managed to get a small advance from Rick to buy some new clothes and stuff...”  
“Don’t be an idiot,” Daryl snorted, swinging the truck easily through traffic, taking all the short cuts he knew. “I told you I would buy dinner if we sold those photos. They sold, I’m buying.”  
Silence fell between them, not awkward in any way, as Daryl concentrated on the traffic and Jesus focused on Daryl. As Daryl swung in to the parking lot, Jesus darted forward, brushing a kiss across Daryl’s cheek. His lips were as soft as they looked, dry and all to brief but more than enough to make Daryl want so much more.  
“Wha..?” he blurted as Jesus sat back. Licking his dry lips, Daryl tried again. “What was that for?”

“Those photos wouldn’t have sold if it hadn’t been for you. I owe everything to you, and Rick and Michonne of course. I might not have long in the modelling business, I’m not getting any younger and I know how brutal the business is, but I’m only getting this chance because of you and your amazing talent.”  
Daryl could only stare at the man in front of him, at the pinkness of his cheeks, the sweep of his lowered eyelashes, the way he bit at his lower lip. Daryl was moving before he thought, wrapping one large hand around the back of Jesus’s neck to draw him forward, their lips colliding a little too roughly. He had a moment of panic as the long haired man sat frozen in his grip. Then Jesus relaxed, almost melting into Daryl’s touch, the touch of lips gentling. The kiss was ridiculously chaste for a pair of grown men but neither felt the need for it to be anything more yet. They parted slowly, lips and fingers lingering for a few seconds more before breaking completely away.  
“I feel like I should apologise...” Daryl began.  
“Please don’t,” Jesus interrupted. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. That was... perfect.”  
They smiled at each other for a minute then hopped out the truck to head inside.

**

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much,” Jesus groaned, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his stomach with a satisfied smile. Daryl grinned back, patting his own full belly, weirdly thrilled that he had managed to feed the other man so completely.  
“It was pretty good. I’d ask if you want dessert but...”  
Jesus groaned, lifting his hands in surrender, laughing quietly.  
“I’d love dessert but I don’t think I could possibly fit another mouthful in without exploding. I’m going to be working that meal off for a week. But it was worth every extra sit up I’m going to have to do.” Bright eyes sparkled in the low light, warm and soft as they locked on Daryl’s. “Thank you.”  
“Anytime,” Daryl replied quietly, smiling back. He stood, clenched his fists briefly to blot some of the sweat off them then extended his hand to Jesus. “Do you want to walk by the water for a while?”  
Jesus glanced from the hand to Daryl’s nervous sky blue eyes, swallowed heavily then took it, standing.  
“I’d love to.”

They walked, hand in hand, out of the restaurant and along the brightly lit waterfront. Daryl was worried, at first, that they would draw too much attention. But they were just another couple in a sea of people, drawing no more interest than anyone else. They chatted about everything, never really going into their pasts apart from to establish that neither one had particularly happy memories. Daryl spoke passionately about his work, spurred on by Jesus’s avid face, the insightful questions he asked. Jesus spoke of his love of art, of the way he felt a deep connection with certain pieces, as if they were speaking directly to him. He blushed when he saw Daryl staring at him, lowering his head so his hair hid his face.  
“Sorry, I was rambling...”  
“Don’t,” Daryl murmured, brushing the surprisingly soft curtain back, sliding his fingers deeper in to the thick strands to cradle the back of Jesus’s head. “I like seeing you talking so empathically. Wow, look at me, big word of the day right there.”  
Jesus let his head roll back into Daryl’s grip, smiling up at him. There was a brief, silent moment of perfect understanding then they were kissing. It was just as sweet and almost as chaste as the first one but now Daryl could really appreciate the fullness of Jesus’s lips, the firmness of them as they moved against his own. He felt the other man move closer, felt him mold himself to Daryl’s body, hands sliding around his waist to hold him tightly. A small, rough sound rumbled out of the photographer as he crushed Jesus to him, devouring his lips as if he would eat him from the mouth down. Daryl felt an answering groan vibrate through the slightly smaller man, felt strong hands curl in the back of his shirt…

“Get a room!”  
They jolted apart at the shout, heads whipping round to see where it had come from before looking back at each other with sheepish smiles.  
“I better get you home before Rick starts hounding me for ruining your beauty sleep,” Daryl muttered ruefully. “His plans are pretty well laid and if I mess them up by keeping you out too late he’ll set Michonne on me...” He shuddered dramatically. Jesus laughed, azure eyes sparkling as the lust slowly receded, banked like the embers of a forge, waiting to be fanned into roaring flames.  
“I hate to go but I’d hate to anger those two even more. Let’s go...But maybe we could take the long way home?”  
“I think we could do that,” Daryl grinned, sliding his arm tight round Jesus’s waist, pulling him flush to his side as they strolled back towards the truck.

**  
The next few weeks were chaotic. Jesus was in greater and greater demand, every possible company wanting him to be the face of their product. Rick never let him take a break, always bouncing the model around from shoot to shoot, looking for the best offer. Jesus coped with his increased work load with grace, always smiling and polite. But, inside, he was lonely and ached to see Daryl again. The only contact they had managed was frequent texts and the occasional video chat. He knew Daryl was swamped with work and preparing for his new exhibition. So he made do with the texts and the all too brief video chats, making sure Daryl was eating properly, resting enough, taking care of himself.  
Daryl, for his part, was missing Jesus desperately. The texts were nice and often made him smile. So did the video chats they managed now and again. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see Jesus, to hold him, hear his voice, feel the softness of his lips, the brush of his thick, chestnut hair... He fiddled with his phone, contemplating sending a text, only to find his fingers dialled almost automatically.

"Hello?” a sleepy voice answered, low and rough. Daryl instantly felt warm, the cold spot inside him he hadn’t even realised was there, vanishing.  
“Hey,” he replied, tone low as if he were there in bed with Jesus instead of in his studio, trying to pick the right pictures. “Sorry, did I wake you?”  
“No, I woke up about five minutes ago. I’m just being lazy,” Jesus chuckled back. “Everything okay?”  
“Yeah, I just... Seems like it’s been ages since we spoke.”  
“You’re not wrong. I was dreaming about you actually...” There was an embarrassed pause. “Sorry, filter from brain to mouth isn’t working yet.”  
“What were you dreaming?” Daryl asked, mouth suddenly dry, all thoughts of the exhibition vanishing.  
“Well... It’s kind of embarrassing...”  
“All the more reason for you to tell me,” Daryl laughed, rubbing his free hand on his jeans nervously.  
“I was dreaming about our date, only...It didn’t end when you took me home.”

“Oh? When did it end?” Daryl asked lightly, stomach twisting in a hot ball of desire. Jesus’s voice was still low, a little rough around the edges but not from sleep this time. Daryl licked his lips at the thought of what the other man must look like laid in bed, hair loose and tangled around his face, cheeks flushed, blue eyes hazy with lust and lingering sleep.  
“I don’t know, I woke up before it ended. But I wish I hadn’t. I wanted to stay there, naked in your arms, your lips teasing my body, your long, thick fingers buried in my ass...”  
Daryl groaned, a dark, almost animal sound, that made Jesus gasp slightly, breathing coming heavier down the line.  
“I dreamed of sucking you off,” Jesus murmured, panting slightly. “Forcing as much of your thick, hot shaft down my throat as I possibly could. I could feel your fingers in my hair, holding my head as you used my mouth, take the pleasure you wanted while I sucked and licked and prayed for more. Then you were inside me, pressing me up against a window, your fat cock pounding me...”  
Daryl could barely think as Jesus kept on, the images he painted in his low, seductive voice wiping all other thoughts straight from his mind. 

**

Jesus squirmed as he talked, words pouring from him like a dam had broken. He was hard and aching, longing for Daryl’s touch. The other man was quiet on the line, his heavy breathing the only evidence that he hadn’t hung up.  
“Your fucking mouth...” Daryl growled breathlessly at one point as Jesus told him how he wanted to feel Daryl’s hands in his hair as they made love. Jesus paused then sat up slowly, careful of his raging erection.

“I want to see you. As soon as possible. Are you busy tonight?” he asked, nerves and desperate desire swirling in his veins.  
“Open the door,” was the only reply before the line went dead. Jesus frowned at his phone for a moment before a loud banging on the front door made him jump, dropping it. Quickly throwing on his oldest, most ragged, most comfortable tee shirt, he rushed to the door, raking his fingers through his wild hair. Pulling it open, the model stared, slack jawed, as Daryl stood there, face flushed, panting, eyes glittering with an almost dangerous light.  
“What...?” Jesus gawped. “How did you...?”  
“I ran,” Daryl replied a second before his lips crashed to Jesus’s driving the other man back into the apartment hallway. He kicked the door shut behind him, long fingers sinking into sleep warm chestnut tresses, as he held Jesus close, kissing him breathless.

Jesus moaned into the kiss, desire flaring anew at Daryl’s hot, hungry touch. They stumbled back into the apartment, kissing and groping, hands tugging at clothes until there was a clear trail from front door to bedroom of discarded items.  
Jesus broke the kiss, grinning a second before he gave Daryl a shove, dropping him on to his rumpled sheets. Grinning wolfishly, the model climbed over the other man, trailing feather light kisses over his stomach and chest. He paused for a moment to tease one hardened nipple with just the very tip of his tongue then moved on, higher and higher, pressing gentle kisses along the column of Daryl’s throat, the roughness of his stubble making his lips tingle. Then he was hovering above Daryl, their eyes locked, blue on blue, heat pooling between them like warm caramel.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Jesus breathed, low and reverent. “You should be the model, not me. Those eyes, your face, this fucking sex on legs body...”  
Daryl blushed hotly as Jesus spoke, turning his head away so the other man wouldn’t see the disbelief in his eyes. Jesus turned his face back, eyes soft now, a smile on his lips as he dipped down to kiss the air from Daryl’s lungs.  
“Wait,” Daryl breathed, pulling back ever so slightly. The flash of disappointment in Jesus’s lust hazed eyes made him tighten his grip, trying to press reassurance into the other man. “I want to do all the things you told me. So much I can barely stand it but... I’m not really very experienced with sex...And I don’t want to disappoint you.”  
Staring at the man below him, the embarrassed red staining over his cheeks, the way his eyes shifted, Jesus felt a burst of raw affection bloom in his chest. Lowering himself slowly, slotting their bodies together, he gazed into those sky blue eyes, lips brushing Daryl’s as he spoke.  
“You will never disappoint me. And we can go as slow as you want...”

Daryl shook his head, pressing Jesus down harder on top of him, thrusting up so their erections slid together.  
“I don’t want to go slow, not right now. Later, maybe... Right now I just want to be inside you. I just... I haven’t been with a lot of people and...”  
Jesus kissed him lingeringly, distracting the photographer from his thoughts with hands and tongue.  
“How you haven’t been ravaged by everyone that’s ever met you is a mystery. I, however, am very glad that you haven’t. In fact, I love that you are almost untouched. It makes me feel oddly possessive. You want to be inside me, we can do that. It’s going to take a bit of team work though.”  
“Good job we work so well together then,” Daryl smirked, nerves still evident around the edges of his eyes. Jesus kissed him again, just because he could, using lips and teeth and tongue to drive Daryl wild, forcing those niggling worries away. Sitting up slowly, letting his loose, wildly tangled hair trail over Daryl’s chest, Jesus took a moment to look at the feast before him. There was no denying that Daryl was built. His shoulders were deliciously broad and strong looking, his chest well defined without being overly muscled, his stomach taut but not rippling with more muscles than you could count. His hips were slender, thighs strong, calves leanly toned and feet delicately boned. But his gaze was drawn back to the throbbing shaft raising from a nest of dark curls between those powerful looking thighs.  
The blush on Daryl’s cheeks had spread down his neck and flowed over his chest as he watched the heat flare and catch fire in Jesus’s eyes. When the long haired man suddenly scrambled across the bed, very ungracefully in Daryl’s opinion but easily forgiven due to the deep red, rock hard erection bobbing between his legs, Daryl could only blink in dazed surprise. Before he could move, to ask what was wrong, Jesus was back, kneeling next to Daryl with a small, soft smile.

“Sit up,” he instructed, pressing a small bottle of lube into Daryl’s hand. He rocked forward onto his hands, presenting his ass to the other man’s hungry gaze. “I’m gonna talk you through this, though I’m sure you know how to do most of it.”  
“I do, yeah,” Daryl replied breathlessly. “Just... Tell me if I’m hurting you or anything ok?”  
“No worries there,” Jesus chuckled, throwing a wicked smirk over his shoulder. “In your own time, maestro.”  
Swooping down quickly, Daryl brushed his lips to Jesus’s cheek, an oddly sweet, chaste gesture considering their position. Jesus blinked, surprised.  
“Sorry. That was dumb...” Daryl mumbled, moving back. Jesus grabbed his wrist, pulling him down for a soft kiss.  
“That was hot. I love a good hard fuck but sweet and full of emotion... That’s my weakness. Feel free to be as affectionate as you like anytime.”  
Daryl chuckled quietly, kissing the other man again briefly before moving back to his original position and picking up the lube with slightly nervous fingers. He desperately tried to remember porn he’d watched and the few times he’d slept with someone, male or female, but it was just a blank, wiped out by the all consuming lust he had for the man below him.  
“Pour some of the lube on your fingers and start massaging around my hole,” Jesus instructed in a low voice, shifting his hips slightly. Daryl did, startled by the way Jesus flinched.  
“Cold,” the model laughed. Daryl mumbled some apology then focused back on his task. He was amazed at how hot Jesus’s flesh was, how the puckered entrance flexed and clenched as he rubbed over it gently. Curiously the photographer pressed the tip of his finger against the winking hole, biting his lip hard when Jesus let out a low, groaned, “fuck yes.”

Feeling a bit bolder, Daryl pushed further, his slippery finger meeting resistance at first then popping through the tight ring of muscle up to his first knuckle. Jesus moan made him feel confident enough to push the finger in all the way in.  
“Fuck! Hang on...” Jesus groaned.  
Daryl froze, afraid he’d hurt the other man somehow.  
“Your fingers are much thicker than I thought. Give me a second to adjust,” Jesus explained, trying to reassure the tense Daryl. To distract them both, Jesus reached back, fumbled for a moment then gripped Daryl’s cock, pumping it firmly a few times. Without thinking, Daryl began to move this finger in time with Jesus’s hand causing the long haired man to moan loudly, hand falling away from his aching dick.  
“I think I can take the next one now. Just, please use plenty of lube. “  
“It’s gonna make a helluva mess...” Daryl frowned.  
“That’s half the fun. And the shower after, of course.”  
Chuckling Daryl added more lube to his fingers and began the delicate process of again. It took them a while to get it right but fairly soon Daryl was thrusting two fingers deep into Jesus, chewing his lip raw in a effort to hold in his moans as the model writhed under his touch.  
“One more,” Jesus panted, shivering as Daryl flexed his fingers deep inside his ass, opening him further. “One more then your cock. Fuck, I want it so bad...” He made some inarticulate noise of pleasure that caused Daryl to grunt, shifting himself slightly to try and ease the throbbing ache in his groin.

The third finger went in easier and it drew loud groans from them both, Jesus feeling so open and so full, surrounded by the sense and scent of Daryl, brain knocked completely off line by his thick, rough fingers deep inside him. Daryl felt powerful, confident that he could have the other man falling apart with just a twist of his wrist.  
“Oh Goooooood...” Jesus moaned, face pressed to the pillows, back arched, sweat pooling in the hollow of his spine as he fought the urge to ride Daryl’s wicked fingers to completion.  
“Are... Are you ready?” Daryl asked hesitantly, voice low and dark with barely suppressed lust. “Not sure I can hold back much longer.”  
Gathering his scattered wits, Jesus made a snap decision. Sitting up he twisted, grabbed Daryl and threw him on his back, clambering over the other man quickly. Daryl was too surprised to react, could only watched as Jesus rolled a condom on to his aching cock then smothered it in lube. Swinging his leg over the slim waist, Jesus settled slowly, rubbing the cleft off his ass along the throbbing, blood hot shaft as he leant down to kiss Daryl deeply, enclosing them both in the curtain of his hair. They both groaned loudly when the edge of his stretched hole caught the flared head of Daryl’s cock. 

“I’m gonna ride you,” Jesus breathed in to the kiss. “Mainly because I want to see your face.”  
“I can live with that,” Daryl murmured back , grabbing Jesus’s hips as he thrust up against him, tormenting his lover by almost, but never quite, pushing inside him. With a growl of animal need, Jesus thrust himself back and down, impaling himself on Daryl’s rock hard dick. They both cried out, Jesus in pleasure edged with pain and Daryl with surprised edged with lust.  
“Are you hurt?” he demanded as soon as he could, gripping Jesus’s hips hard enough to bruise.  
“No,” was the slurred reply, his eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, eyes almost black with arousal. “Feels so amazing. Gimme a few seconds and you can start moving. How is it for you?”  
“Tight, hot, amazing,” Daryl panted, brain function severely limited by the tight grip Jesus’s body had on him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”  
Jesus slumped forward, crashing their lips together as he began to move his hips slowly, nipping a Daryl’s slick mouth, sucking on his tongue with brain melting skill. 

Steadily they built rhythm, Jesus dropping down as Daryl surged up, their meeting punctuated by loud cries and thunderous groans, especially when Daryl shifted ever so slightly and brushed something deep inside his lover that made Jesus damn near scream with ecstasy. He wanted to ask but decided there would be time after. Besides Daryl was too entranced by the sight of his lover above him. Jesus’s sweat soaked hair stuck to his face and throat, brushing his shoulders. Smouldering blue eyes burned him from under heavy lids as the model rode him with hard, almost brutal thrusts.  
“I’m close,” he blurted suddenly, biting the inside of his lip and cursing his stupid mouth for making him sound like a horny teenager with no control. But the sight of Jesus made him feel just that, wildly turned on and way out of control.  
“Me too,” Jesus gasped, reaching down to move Daryl’s hand from his waist to his cock. He hissed at the first touch then began to moan loudly, thrusting up into Daryl’s hand then down on his thick shaft. “Yes! Oh fuck yesyesyesyesyes...” Jesus chanted.  
Daryl could feel his lover growing more tense, could see the pleasure building in his face and it spurred him on. Planting his feet on the bed, Daryl thrust up as hard and as fast of he could, his hand a blur on Jesus’s weeping dick.

With a shout so loud it echoed around the apartment, Jesus felt his orgasm rush out of him like a volcanic eruption. His vision went white, ears ringing like he was inside the bell tower of Notre Dame, muscles locking tight as wave after wave of pleasure roared through him.  
Daryl felt Jesus suddenly seize up above him, felt his body clamped down and begin to ripple around his thrusting cock. Thick ropes of come burst from his lover’s dick to splash across Daryl’s hand and stomach in warm, sticky trails. The sight and sound of Jesus’s orgasm drove the photographer harder, forced him to thrust once, twice, three times, then a bolt of summer lightning shot through him, burning thought, sight and sound. 

Jesus came back to himself to discover he had fallen on top of Daryl, curled up on his chest as they tried to gather their scattered wits and calm their racing hearts. He could feel his own come cooling between them, making them both sticky and a little uncomfortable but he just couldn’t find the energy to move. Daryl’s arms were wrapped around him and that was more than enough for right now.  
“Well... That didn’t completely suck, right?” Daryl asked a short time later, voice low and tinged with real concern. Jesus laughed, snuggling up closer to his lover and pressing a kiss right over his heart.  
“It didn’t suck at all. Tell you what, I’ll show you something that really sucks and you can compare.”  
“Oh?” Daryl asked, curious and wary. “What’s this sucky thing?”  
“Me,” Jesus grinned wolfishly, descending on his lover again. 

**

Jesus slipped in with the rest of the crowd, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He didn’t want to be spotted by the press or anything. This was Daryl’s big night, his show opening night, he was the one that deserved the spotlight. But nothing would have kept Jesus away. He had borrowed his boyfriend’s leather jacket, threw on a white tee shirt and slipped on some black jeans, all topped off with a beanie pulled low on his forehead. He looked like any other hipster artist there and that took off a lot of the pressure. Sidling through the crowd, he spotted Daryl immediately, talking to Rick in a back corner. As always, Jesus’s heart skipped a beat as he watched his lover. To distract himself from the urge to climb the man like a tree and get them arrested for public indecency, he turned instead to the pictures.

He hadn’t seen anything Daryl had put in this exhibition, not wanting to pry about something Daryl was working so hard on. He was stunned , therefore, to see that the first picture was of him. Well, actually, of his profiled nose, mouth and chin. The next was of a bent arm, the muscles defined but not overly prominent. Jesus knew it was his own arm, however, because he recognised he scar just above his elbow. He went around the entire exhibition and saw that every photo was of him or at least various parts of him. Each had attracted quite a number of admirers, everyone talking about the way Daryl had captured the model so uniquely.

The main focus of the show, however, was a six foot picture of Jesus, arms crossed over his chest, head thrown back as he laughed, standing in front of Daryl’s apartment window. It was made up of hundreds of smaller photographs, each a different picture of the main model and artfully blended to trick the eye. Something brushing his cheek barely registered with Jesus for a moment before he felt Daryl’s familiar presence. Looking around with huge, dazed eyes, he could only stare at his lover for a long time.  
“It’s called ‘In This Moment’,” Daryl murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against Jesus’s cheek again. “Because, in that moment, I knew I wanted to be with you.”  
“This... This was on that first day we worked together,” Jesus breathed. “All these pictures...”  
“Rick told me the pictures I had originally chosen just weren’t quite right. He told me to focus on something I loved. So I did. Some freak that was stalking me, buying all my best pieces even when he couldn’t really afford to.”  
Jesus gasped, eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. Then he threw his arms around Daryl’s neck, burying his face against him.  
“Don’t cry,” Daryl murmured, alarmed. “I’m sorry. I thought it was a good thing...”  
“It is,” Jesus sniffed. “Happy tears, promise. Love you right back, you camera happy weirdo.”  
“I’ve been called worse,” Daryl laughed, gathering the model closer to him, kissing both his cheeks. “Come on, time to introduce you to my side of this world of ours.”


End file.
